Are you crying yet, Quatre?
by Hiashi
Summary: Duo is about to commit suicide; writes a note to whoever finds him expressing how he felt before his death. Shounen-ai implied. Please R/R!
1. Default Chapter

[ Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the computer I type this from. I am broke, except for twenty dollars in my pocket, so suing me would be a waste of time, eh?  
  
Warnings: Shounen-ai, etc.. You know the drill. Also, I know that Duo/Quatre is a *very* unlikely pair, but I've fallen in love with the characters of both. I'd like to note that I doubt this would ever happen in anywhere but the 'fics of crazed fangirls.]  
  
  
Setting: Duo is about to commit suicide (for unknown reasons, at this point), and is writing a letter to whoever finds him.  
  
  
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To whomever it may concern,  
  
Have you ever questioned where you were? I mean, really wondered why you were at the point you were at. Why everything you've done just kind of melted together to make something new, something that just... fit. Or why you weren't somewhere else, why luck didn't chip in and give you everything you desired and more, why fate had to deal you a bad hand and leave you in a worse state than you started. I've already asked myself why I had to turn out like I did... Now I don't need to ask.   
  
I've learned that my life is what it is, take it or leave it, love it or loathe it. I've found that true contentment isn't always a stable home and a fixed lifestyle. I've found something better than seeking ideals in a world where everyone's doing the same, and I've come to realize that, in all my years, I've never really lived up to anything but those same ideals, those same little ideals that scar minds around the world.   
  
He always told me that I was something special. I used to believe that, but now I see that, in his eyes, everything's special.  
  
I was never perfect, not in the way he wanted me to be. His innocent face, unmarred by time or toil, hate or death, was not mine. The world he saw through those pale blue eyes of his was far more rose-tinted than the one my violet eyes would ever see, could ever see. And the way the sun seemed to live in his blonde hair, the way he seemed to glide through life, not letting anything stop him from spreading joy... I could never be that way. My heart was as black as the clothing I wore; no sunlight dared live in my dark braid; the cross I carried wasn't emotional, not anymore at least, and it was mine alone.  
  
Maybe it was a bad case of hero-worship, as some would call it.. I wanted to be him. I wanted to be the shining one, the one you could always turn to for a new, brighter perspective. I wanted to be loved by all, and yet still be somewhat subdued. I envied everything about him, but I never stopped and thought of who I was. My basic mind was that to achieve perfection, I only needed to become my own version of him.. I thought he'd want that. But I guess I didn't know him enough to know that he wouldn't.  
  
We'd worked together for years, as Gundam pilots, two separate souls and yet one entity, one fighting being of higher power. We won, and we lost together. Loved, and despised. Saved, and slaughtered. It's almost funny how, when I think back on it, I never wondered where he came from, or how he got hold of his Gundam. Was he like me? Was it his only route in life? Or was it something more meaningful? That first time I battled with him at my side, just me and him, I hadn't thought much on who sat within the mech. It was when he told me why we were fighting, why he had to show the other Gundam pilots what we were doing... Then I was curious. Shinigami rarely gets curious about an individual, though it seemed that he and another pilot, Heero Yuy, were exceptions. But Heero is another story, and a different kind of worship altogether..  
  
And when he had opened his doors to me, letting me into his home, a secret to the outside world... I knew he wasn't like me at all. This wasn't a pilot who had dealings with death.. I, on the other, was death. He was no leader, no, but the whole village seemed to love him all the same, he and the men who battled with him. Revelation after revelation, that was how it was for me. Quatre Raberba Winner.. That what he called himself, plain and simple. Here we were, barely even friends, and he was already introducing himself as one. How could I ignore the gesture of friendship? I already felt strangely content around him, as if he created a shield between the battle I had faced and what I was in now. So I told him my name, too: I was Duo Maxwell, and I may run and hide, but I never lie.. He actually laughed, but not at me. Good-naturedly. Revelation.  
  
We would laugh together, and slowly our friendship grew. He was no longer the pilot of the unknown Gundam, an unexpected ally with a level head that helped to unite the others. He was a person, a person with their own life, a caring boy who was a bit too deep in affairs that were meant for adults. I admired how he could shoulder so much responsibility and still come off as what he did. Me, I could never be like that.. I was too foul, too twisted, too messed up, but I would try. Lord, would I try! I found myself risking it all to make him smile, and make that load he carried a bit lighter. He didn't deserve so much pain. I did, but not him.  
  
Did I love him? Maybe.. I don't know. Now that I think back on it, I see I was never sure. I followed his example blindly, while still keeping up my own air. I was the joyful reaper, the smiling Shinigami, only half of what Quatre was. He could smile without malice, and he could laugh with acid in his tone. He could be happy without tricking his heart into believing in false hopes. But did I love him, because of that? Because I wanted to be him, because I admired him so? Again, I don't know....  
  
So what if I did? Does it matter? Because, if I did, it wasn't mutual.. I was a meek follower, stumbling towards a greater good I'd never reach, like one who followed a religion only because they were afraid of fire and brimstone. I was only a kid.. We were all only kids, if only physically. We were still changing, still rebellious, still trying to cope with a world that wouldn't slow down for us. I let pure admiration twist itself into a faux feeling of love, when I didn't love him at all, at least not that way. I loved him as a friend, I loved him as an ally, and I loved all his virtues, his qualities, his innocence.  
  
I loved him.  
  
I loved how he accepted me without questions, and how he let me talk to him. In times of peace, before Mariemaia and her army, I lived with Heero... Those were some of the best times, and worst times, in my life. Months of tension, of worry, of joy, of sorrow, of depression, of lust.. He was the perfect soldier, and I was the perfect escape from a world that shunned our kind, the soldiers. But Quatre was out there, somewhere, and, some nights, as I lay beside Heero, passion spent and sleep beginning to claim me, I often remembered his face, his smile.. Where was he now? Did he even remember me?  
  
Of course he did. He loved everyone, everyone was his friends. Even me, the God of Death, the Great Destroyer. You cared about me too, didn't you, Quatre? Though I suppose you'll never get to tell me otherwise. Oh, you never loved me, I know that. I was your friend, like everyone else was, nothing special. I was not above nor was I below any others. I loved how you could put everyone on an equal stand. But you can take me off that list of friends, now. I tried to be you, and I guess I failed.. You'd never hurt a soul if you didn't need to, much less yourself.   
  
This is getting nowhere. Are you crying by now, Quatre? Is it you that's reading this? You know what, I don't even think I give a damn anymore. I bet you are crying, and I don't want you to. I don't want anyone to cry over me. Heero tried to kill himself, before, and no one cried, though they didn't know if he was alive or dead. I want it to be the same for me. But if you're going to cry, any of you, I suppose I won't care, because I'll be gone by then. And if I don't go through with it, you won't be reading this anyway.. Cat-chan, are you crying yet? Are you?  
  
So I bid you all farewell. If you need a smile, a laugh, a joke, you won't be able to turn to me.. Turn to Quatre. He deserves to be turned to, because he wants to help. I don't. I loved you Quatre, and I guess I'm just being selfish, or stupid. Now I'm starting to cry... I don't do crying. I make people cry, and not the other way around.  
  
So, do you ever question where you're going in life? I used to, but that was before I met Quatre. I don't deserve to live in his perfect world.. So now I know where I belong. I know where my life needs to go........  
  
.........to Hell, with the rest of the my soul.  
  
  
  
Yours,  
  
Duo Maxwell  
----  
  
  



	2. I'm crying, Duo.

[ Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the computer I type this from. I do, however, own the mind the thinks up these stories, the 50 cents in my pocket, a stick of gum, a pencil without an eraser, a wooden chair that wobbles when you sit in it, an albino muse named Nathaniel, and a single Cadbury Cream Egg. Not too shabby, eh?  
  
Warnings: *lightly* implied Shounen-ai smatterings, etc.. You know the drill. Duo/Quatre.. So cute, yet so unrealistic, right? Ah, yes, but this is fanfiction, where the fluffy minds of fangirls everywhere may run amuck. Finally, this 'fic didn't start as a suicide 'fic, so I never intended on having Duo die. It just.. happened that way. Ah, and no, Quatre is not going to commit suicide.. ]  
  
  
  
Setting: "Sequel", I suppose, to Duo's suicide note. We're assuming that Duo actually went through with it. Quatre is now writing in his diary, though the entry starts to turn into a letter to Duo....  
  
  
  
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I'm crying, Duo.   
  
Can't you see the tears, from where you are? This -is- what you wanted, right? This is what you hoped to achieve. You're no longer a scar, Duo.. You're not in the limelight anymore. You're not here to mar my 'perfect world', not anymore. Yes, we can all be happy now.. We can all laugh, and rejoice, and be at peace because you're gone, can't we? Shouldn't that be how it works?   
  
Then why am I crying?  
  
You wanted to be me, you said.. You did say that, didn't you? Not in words, of course.. But you wrote it. 'Writing is the language of the heart', I've been told. So is my heart crying, too? Was yours? This isn't even making sense.. You don't know what I'm writing, you can't see me. You're gone, you coward.. I bet you didn't expect that, eh, Duo? The God of Death can insult where he pleases, but Quatre, poor, innocent, -pure Quatre- would never do that. Why did you think that? You trapped me...   
  
So you wanted to be the shining one, did you. You should've said so, because I wouldn't have minded.. I'm sick of it all. Do you know what it's like, being the chaste one, never to step outside the boundaries or purity and kindness? It's your fault, it's everyone's fault.. it's my fault. It's all my fault, but you don't care. You never really cared. Not even Trowa cared, and he... He was special. Is special. But he doesn't care about me, not the real me, because he doesn't even know the real me. I'm not innocent. I know it, why can't you see it? Curious, Shinigami? You said you never get curious, besides a couple exceptions.. me, and Heero. So are you curious? Because I'll tell, I'll tell it all.. I have nothing left to lose, except my soul, and I'm beginning to see how worthless it is.  
  
I was once the noble one.. Weren't we all, way back when? I used to care only for others, I used to love the world, I used to scream for pacifism, on the inside.. But then I grew up, Duo. I grew up and saw that, in all reality, the world didn't care. The world would just keep on turning whether I fought, or died, and I couldn't prevent anything.. I could try my hardest, I could throw myself to the dogs, I could become the cushion that caught those that fell after they tried the same thing I had, but I couldn't do anything. Well, anything but smile. And laugh. And ignore my own insecurities, my own problems, my own self.. If I was going to change the world I had to support it, not push with it. If it wanted to break down the doors between peace and war, then I would follow the collective, but I would never throw myself with them. I'd be there with kind words, because I was useless, and pathetic. Weak.  
  
So I'm innocent, am I? You seemed to think so... I'm almost sorry for letting you think that for so long. Almost. And it was 'my perfect world'.. No one sees its imperfection more than I do. This world belongs to me as much as it belonged to you, perhaps even less so. I was in the backdrops constantly, I never did anything with provocation, without thinking it through, because I was afraid. Afraid of starting something that I couldn't handle, something that would force me to lift my shield between caring and supporting, something that'd rip the fabric from the pillow of contentment and endless facades that I fall back on when need be. Do you know what it's like to have to carefully choreograph your every move? You counted on me. You all did, even Heero, the emotionless, but perfect soldier. Even he needed to know that someone was smiling as he destroyed, maimed, slaughtered.. I was that someone for him, as I was for you. I was that little bit of false hope, like a Sunday mass after a week of pain; maybe there was no God, but you didn't care when you were there, because it comforted you to think that all your toil, and all your suffering would pay off.  
  
I hate being the golden one. Can you imagine that? All you say you ever wanted to be, and here I am, saying that I wasn't even that. I deserved every burden I ever shouldered, every death I had to stomach, ever pain I had to bite down.. Lies are things to confess and repent for, and I was living a lie, yet you never saw me once sit down and pray that my life would get better. In my mind, I was already too far gone for that. Prayer was for those who had souls worth saving. With me, all that was worth saving was the shell everyone called Quatre, the shell that smiled, the shell that comforted, and the shell that united. My soul didn't do that. It turned, it writhed, and it boiled.. I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream, I wanted to swear, I wanted to flirt, I wanted to do every single thing that everyone denied I could ever do. I wanted to show them, and I wanted to show you, too, Duo. As funny as it sounds, I wanted to be like you.  
  
Look at you, how you were! You had friends everywhere.. Your life was rough, but so was mine. You say what I see, day by day, can't compare to what you see.. You're wrong. I've walked more than a mile in your skin, Shinigami, and I've seen death, I've seen hate, I've seen brutality and malice and loathing and disease. Do you think I'm immune? That I never cared? That I virtuously turned my soft cheek at such monstrosities because I couldn't handle it? That's partially true, I suppose.. I couldn't handle it, but I didn't avoid it. If you could do it, live with it, then I could.  
  
When you laughed, it was pure laughter. Not like mine, that rang so falsely that it shamed choirs, a voice that chimed like a church choir to bring in the pathetic souls who dreamed of 'salvation', of an invisible savior. When you laughed, you wanted to laugh, and you didn't care about what others thought. I admired that about you, Duo, and I wish I could do that. But Quatre Winner doesn't do that, of course.. Heaven forbid he may -anger- someone! Damn, was I that misleading? I didn't want to go too far into the act.. What if I regretted it, like I do now? What if, one day, I realize that, Hell, I want to and do something that will shock the world.. I can't, you know. Not only would it cause me to lose all I worked toward, but I'm afraid to. I'm afraid to be like you, Duo, to just laugh because I feel like laughing, and smile when I feel like smiling. I have too many people watching my every move, watching every carefully placed action.. One 'out of character' moment, and there's something 'wrong' with me.  
  
You grew up in a church, didn't you.. So was this how your Jesus felt? Did he ever want to just turn his back on those that followed them, to snap out at them and say, "To Hell with all of you, I'm not your God! Let me live my own life! Let me free, and never speak to me again. Don't beg me for a cure, don't ask of me comfort, don't live off my smiles, my nods, my actions.. Go to him. Stop trying to find the truth in a vessel." He didn't, did he? Nor will I. There's too much at stake, my angel of death, too much at stake.. I will gladly kill many things, but never dreams. Would you hate me if I shunned you, Duo? Would you turn your back on me from beyond your own grave, or curl up and refuse to believe? Half of me wishes that you would.. Isn't that funny? You said that, now that you're gone, people can turn to me for a laugh.. Duo, are you laughing now? Are you?   
  
When I first met you, maybe it wasn't sparks.. My friendships never start as sparks, not anymore. I don't see it that way. I was a selfish child, and I had good reason to be; the only son amongst twenty-nine daughters is bound to be the subject of slight favoritism by his keeper. I always wanted more, more, more... And then I changed into what I am today, a pathetic, pale shadow of what I want to be. You were an escape, don't you see this? If I needed someone to support me, you were there. If I needed someone to laugh, because I couldn't bring myself to do that, for the sake of anyone, you filled in without even knowing. Always. But you didn't see what you did for anyone.. Did you know I watched you, sometimes, when you fell asleep, after you and the others took board with me and my family? I wondered how you could be so cheerful, for your dreams never were.. You tossed, turned, you murmured the strangest things, and it hurt me, because I couldn't just make it better. I couldn't quiet the mumblings of "..Solo...", or "Maxwell's little demon... Maxwell's fucking little demon.." I wanted to make you forget, so when you woke up after those nights, I'd be more than cheerful. I'd be a practical ray of sunlight, Allah forbid. God forbid. Shinigami forbid.. I don't know what to believe anymore. Is there even anything to believe in?  
  
I bet you can't even see this.. You'll never hear the words I write spoken, nor will you read them with your own eyes. So why do I bother? Maybe it's just anger.. Hate.. Violence.. Or maybe I just feel like writing. A diary is supposed to be a window to the soul, like writing...  
  
Look at me, Duo, I'm crying.  
  
  
But where are you to make me laugh again?   
  
  
  
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End file.
